


Life in Moving Pictures

by Amelia Danvers (magnetgirl)



Category: New Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/Amelia%20Danvers
Summary: Part of the Younger Avengers continuity, a collection of ficlets featuring Peter Parker and Carol Danvers prior to the birth of their children.These stories are based in theNew Avengerscomics, starting in the "Dark Reign" era, when Norman Osborn is Director of SHIELD. The team are all living together in a townhouse belonging to James Barnes.
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Younger Avengers





	1. Toy Story

He was wearing Woody pajamas. Who even knew they came in adult sizes? Actually, they probably don't, but whoever makes all those Spider-Man pajamas is happy to make them for him. For Spider-Man, not for Peter. Though it begs the question, why does Spider-Man want Woody pajamas?  
  
It doesn't really beg the question why does _Peter_ want Woody pajamas. Of course he prefers Woody to Buzz. And of course she prefers Buzz. He's an astronaut superhero who's greatest ambition is to fly. He refuses to believe it's not real and has to learn the meaning of friendship and love and belonging somewhere and to someone.... Let's face it, if she was a toy, she'd be Buzz Lightyear.  
  
She glances at the bookshelf where she does, in fact, keep a (small!) collection of _Star Wars_ action figures. And Captain Kirk. And, well, Iron Man (shut up). And, today, thanks to her not-so-secret-Santa, Ms. Marvel. Who even knew they made her? Oh, all right, she did. Obviously. But who knew he did?  
  
So, I guess if she was a toy, she'd be Ms. Marvel.  
  
Not that any of this is fun and games. Their caped crusader life isn't about pretending to save the day. The day really needs to be saved and they're not playing. Don't let the costumes fool you. Not even the adult-sized Woody pajamas. I mean, laughter aside, what's the real qualitative difference between his pjs and her Property of the Avengers sweats? What you wear to sleep in doesn't define you. What you put on your shelf doesn't define you. It's what you do with what you've got.

It's what you do.  
  
On the screen it's Buzz' big moment of comeuppance. He fails to fly as Randy Newman sings and he realizes he's just a toy after all. Past midway through the movie, the popcorn bowl's been set aside and they're sitting quietly, not quite touching, just watching. Buzz doesn't reach his window and Carol leans her head on Peter's shoulder.  
  
"Thanks."

She doesn't elaborate and she doesn't take her eyes from the screen. He does, glancing her way, and once again can't think of what to say, so he just moves his arm around her, jostling her head from shoulder to chest. And she lets him.


	2. Adventures in Babysitting

"Luke, they live with us, they know the deal." He grumbles. "And we have the best communication system money can't buy." More grumbling. "And they'd both die rather than let anything happen to her." Luke sighs.  
  
"Plus," Peter chimes in, "Carol is one of the most powerful people on the planet."  
  
Jess grins. "Right!"  
  
Luke sighs again. "Right." He hands the baby over to Carol and joins his wife at the door.  
  
Jess waves. "You kids have fun." Carol helps Dani wave back.  
  
"Bye, baby." Luke gives Carol and Peter one last semi-menacing grumble and they make their way out.

Peter smiles at Carol and baby alike. "Don't worry, Dani, we are going to have a great night." The dubious look on the baby's face is remarkably reminiscent of the ones her mother routinely flashes him. "Don't give me that look, I've got plans."

Carol places Dani into her pack-and-play set up by the kitchen table and hands her a toy. "You've got plans."

Peter is already at work putting together dinner. "That's right. Plans for both my girls."

"I'm not your girl."

Peter meets her frowning eyes. "Okay, plans for the the entirely independent woman who is currently, I hope, still deigning to consider herself dating me, and the woman in training we are babysitting together as absolute equals."

Carol smiles. "Better." With a small salute Peter turns back to the stove. "What are your plans?"

"One, dinner -- pasta with Aunt May's super secret super sauce, and bread from the best little tiny Italian bakery this side of Manhattan, guaranteed to put a smile on your face, _and_ both packed with those highly advantageous complex carbohydrates." Peter's unconvinced of the validity of Carol's energy consumption needs, though there is probably an argument for a woman who can, at times, harness a star needing a lot of energy and he's willing to play along. Plus anyone watching a baby needs boundless energy or so Jess tells him. Repeatedly. Every day.

"What, no salad?"

Peter flashes her a small grin; he is beginning to understand the bratty replies are actually her way of showing affection. "And two -- movie night."

"Pixar?"

"Nope, I picked out a double feature, just for the occasion." He nods at the table. Carol picks up two discs and reads their titles aloud.

" _The Babysitters Club_ and _Adventures in Babysitting_."

"I'm clever, right?"

"You're something." Carol shows the movies to Dani, who gives her the equivalent of a shrug. Placing the discs back on the table, Carol stands and joins Peter at the stove. "So, what's in the sauce?"

"It's a secret!"

"But I'm your girl."

He takes in her full-on pout with bemusement. "Oh, so you're my girl to steal my family secrets but not when it comes to me doing nice things for you."

"What nice things?"

"I'm cooking dinner! I got Starburst, Oreos _and_ chocolate covered pretzels! And movies! Clever movies!" She raises an eyebrow. "Hey, _The Babysitters Club_ is about a group of girls starting their own business, I thought you'd like that."

Carol scrunches her nose in thought. "Why have you seen these films?"

"I am a very sensitive guy. But also entirely manly." He wags the sauce spoon at her giggles. "Stop laughing, you. _Adventures in Babysitting_ is a classic."

"Uh-huh."

"Thor is in it!" The wagging spoon flies out of his hand and lands beside the baby. Dani stares at it a moment before first flashing them a very Luke-like look of indignation and then throwing up a very Jessica-like fit. Carol scoops her up into her arms, as Peter recovers the spoon with chagrin.

"It's okay, Dani. Uncle Petey is just a real big Thor fan."


	3. Say Anything

"Whatta ya think, Sweetheart?"  
  
Peter strikes a pose and twirls an imaginary mustache. The display is as out of place in the general store as the beret is on his head. Carol makes a face.  
  
"The hat or the sweetheart?"  
  
"Both." She turns away but the smile she can't quite hide encourages him.  
  
"Okay. How's this, Pumpkin?"  
  
Carol glances back to find the black beret replaced by a red stocking cap with antlers and the words Oh, Canada stitched at the brow. Her eyes widen. "Too Halloween."  
  
"Too scary, Cupcake?"  
  
"No."  
  
He gestures to a display. "We can get some penny candy, Lollipop."  
  
"We're not in grade school."  
  
"Coffee? Streudel?"  
  
Carol replaces the knickknack she was looking at and scrunches her nose at him. "Is that a name or are you hungry?"  
  
He grins his Petey grin. "Both!"  
  
She thwaps him. "Stop calling me after things you eat!"  
  
Peter leans in, undaunted. "Are _you_ hungry....Your Worshipfulness?"  
  
That same smile tugs at her lips. "Closer."  
  
"Is that a yes or no, Nerfherder?"  
  
She thwaps him again. "That's an insult!" But her smile is free as she turns back to not-actually-shopping.  
  
Peter follows along. "It's not reeeeeaaaaaally."  
  
Carol rolls her eyes. "Yes."  
  
"Okay!" He stops. "Wait. Yes, what?"  
  
She makes it to the end of the aisle and turns back once again. "Yes, I'm hungry."  
  
Peter salutes as he joins her. "Okay, whatcha want, Stickers?" He grins a very self-satisfied _oh, I'm so clever_ grin.  
  
She pulls her lips in over her teeth; it is pretty clever. But. "Too complicated. Fudge."  
  
Peter frowns. "You said no food names!" Carol points to a counter by the candy bins. Homemade Fudge Daily. "Oh."  
  
Carol takes his hand and pulls him over. They peer in at signs explaining the different flavors. "What do you want?"  
  
He shrugs, pulling her hand up with him. "You can choose." There's something in his tone that makes her look away from the case. It's in his eyes, too.  
  
"Why do you want to call me some silly name?"  
  
"I don't." There's something in his tone that makes her unable to look away. She chews her lip; he lifts his free hand to still it. It's in his eyes, too.  
  
"What can I get for you?" The server looks from one to the other.  
  
Peter smiles and drops his hand. "Have you decided, Sunshine?"  
  
Carol takes a breath and smiles, too. She nods, turns to the counter and points. "That one."


	4. Mr. and Mrs. Smith

Peter blends in with the crowd. He always has, it's how he's kept his identity secret his whole superheroing life. Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, watching the denizens of the airport with a vaguely bored expression, he could be anyone. Or no one. Carol is the type to stand out, and impatient at that. She's tired of waiting and it shows.  
  
"This is stupid."  
  
Peter glances over and gives her a little shrug with arms crossed over his chest. "Why? We work well together."  
  
"What?" Visibly tense, the word comes out almost like a bark.  
  
"We worked well together before and you didn't know my name." Something like a frown starts to cross her face and he stands straighter, opens his arms and puts on the charm. Such as it is, anyway. "...Never mind how clever, resourceful, handsome, charming, agile—" He tips his hat at her expression of disbelief. "Well-dressed..."  
  
Carol juts her chin out. "Arrogant."  
  
He flashes her an expression poised between pained and amused. "You like arrogant!"  
  
"What?" Another bark.  
  
"Jess told me."  
  
"What?!" At the exclamation a couple heads turn their way. Carol chews her lip and ducks her head, turning her face in to Peter's shoulder as he puts his arm around her and smiles at the bystanders until they avert their eyes.  
  
Peter continues quietly, "Anyway, I'm not arrogant, I'm..." His voice trails off. A long moment goes by before Carol lifts her eyes to meet his. He moves his head back and forth slightly, waiting. Her eyes narrow and her nose scrunches in thought. He smiles his most winning smile.  
  
Carol steps back, rolling her eyes. "Cute."  
  
Peter leans back against the wall and recrosses his arms. "My point, Sunny—"  
  
"Don't call me that when we're working."  
  
"My point, Ms. Marvel—"  
  
She hisses at him. "I'm not in uniform."  
  
"My point, complete stranger standing next to me who is not at all a superhero in disguise—"  
  
"I _am_ glad you have a point."  
  
Peter raises an eyebrow. "I always have a point."  
  
A beat goes by with no response. Peter takes a breath.  
  
"My point, uh, you, is that we worked well together before and _I_ think we'll work even better together now."  
  
She considers this a moment and moves closer. "Because... we know each other's abilities."  
  
"Right. And how we work."  
  
She moves closer again, nearly knocking his hat off with the brim of her own. "How we move."  
  
"Right, how we— hey, now, not when we're working." He takes her hand in his and pulls it from behind his back but doesn't let go.  
  
"Right."  
  
"Right."  
  
Another silent beat goes by. Carol pulls back, hands drop, and they return to leaning against the wall side by side.  
  
"That wasn't what I was talking about."  
  
"Huh, what?" Peter's getting used to Carol's non-existent through lines but that doesn't mean he can entirely follow them.  
  
"I don't think it's stupid to work together."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She flicks her hat with a finger. " _This_ is stupid."  
  
Peter grins. "We're incognito!"  
  
"As _what_? Dick Tracy gangsters? South American drug lords?"  
  
"As people in the airport waiting for—" He cuts off as Carol straightens, suddenly alert. He's already pulling his phone out as he follows her gaze to their target.  
  
"There he is."  
  
"I know, I'm calling it in." Carol keeps her eyes on the man as Peter speaks quickly and quietly into the phone. After a few minutes, he answers a phone call and Peter hangs up.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So. They're in contact, we should make our way back."  
  
Carol frowns. "That's it?"  
  
"That's it."  
  
"This is—"  
  
Peter turns to face her. "Shh, Sunny." He starts to pull her into his arms.  
  
"I said don't—"  
  
He winks. "We're off the clock, dollface."  
  
She scowls but stops fighting the embrace. "Good point."  
  
"I always have one. Part of being so clever, resourceful, handsome, charming—"  
  
"Shuttup and kiss me."


	5. A Streetcar Named Desire

Peter has a knack for finding the most ridiculous souvenirs in any gift shop. In Niagara it was a bright yellow 'Moose Crossing' license plate.  
  
"We don't have a car, Peter."

In Indiana it was a kit for bottling their own maple syrup.  
  
"We live in _Manhattan_ , Peter!"  
  
In Pennsylvania it was an entirely too large teddy bear handmade by the Amish.  
  
"How are we supposed to get that home, Peter?"  
  
Carol imagines if they went to Bali he would want a snow globe.  
  
Graceland was a challenge. The store was a whole new level of ridiculous. But Peter succeeded in finding an umbrella not large enough to keep the rain off even a toddler. It was pink and emblazoned with the silhouette and signature of Elvis. They spent half an hour arguing over where it would go in their apartment. But Peter has a knack for being infuriatingly clever sometimes, too. Carol threw up her hands and went to find the malt shop while he purchased the umbrella.  
  
Most of New Orleans was closed when they hit the streets Sunday morning.  
  
"Don't worry, Peter, I'm sure we can get a voodoo doll tomorrow."  
  
They'd decided to head toward the water when they heard the singing. The large number of people in the church made it look smaller than it actually was and the sound filled the air. Peter smiled and kept walking but Carol stood still, oddly riveted. He returned to her side, but at her expression didn't ask why she'd stopped. Instead he waited for her to say.  
  
Carol is not a religious person. She hadn't been to a church more than maybe ten times since she was a child and they were all weddings or funerals. Mostly funerals. She didn't care. She didn't notice. It wasn't important, not even worth discussing, Peter didn't go to church regularly either. She couldn't explain what held her there if he had asked. Something in the song? Something about a sparrow. Something that should frighten her, maybe, but what she felt was the opposite of fear. She looked over, would not have been surprised to find worry in his eyes, but he was simply waiting and there was only affection.  
  
She reached out and took his hand and returned to walking. The sun was warm on their shoulders and the singing continued from behind. At the corner, Peter stopped and bent down to the ground; still holding her hand he picked up a stone with the other. He straightened, gave her a wink and a small kiss.  
  
"Souvenir."


	6. Before Sunset

He was watching the sun set when she found him. Not the sunset. There's a difference.  
  
"I want to go home."  
  
"Okay." He spoke quietly, still watching the sky.  
  
"You don't want to know why?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He shrugged. "Okay, I want to know why, but I don't _need_ to know why."  
  
"What do you need to know?"  
  
A long silent moment went by; finally Peter turned to look at her.  
  
"Where did you go today."  
  


* * *

She'd woken in his arms, content and calm, and it crossed her mind she wanted to wake every day in his arms. At the thought she instantly and inexplicably needed to get away.  
  
"I don't understand, where are you going to go?"  
  
"Just somewhere. Nowhere. I don't know."  
  
"But by yourself."  
  
"Yeah." She crossed her arms, shrugging, and she looked smaller than he'd ever seen her. He wanted to pull her into his arms but every sense was telling him not to. Especially Spider Sense.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Oh."  
  
It wasn't anything to do with him. She tried to say and he tried to believe her. It was unclear how successful either of them were. She isn't used to constants. Possibly because when they show up she runs away, but is now the time to dwell on that? She's in the middle of running away.  
  
"I'll be back before dark."  
  
"Okay." She was paused at the door; he sat on the bed, not watching her.  
  
"Before sunset."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"I'm fast." She hadn't moved and neither had he; he looked up at the note of quiet pleading in her voice.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Take the day, do whatever. Have fun."  
  
"Okay." She waited for his smile but it didn't come.  
  


* * *

He was watching the sun set when she found him. Down the road from the motel, or up, as it was a hill. Too far to walk, it's a long road...he could do it, of course, much easier than most, but that's not the point. He'd found a perfect place to watch the sun set, elevated yet hidden, the road and its unlit street lamps the only sign of civilization for as far as the eye can see.  
  
...A long silent moment went by; finally Peter turned to look at her.  
  
"Where did you go today."  
  
She chewed her lip. It wasn't a question, really, the way he said it. It was an answer. Carol shook her head, tried to force her thoughts in order, tried to come up with some way to explain. He was watching, waiting with a patience that scared her; she forced her mouth open but all that came out was a sob. She was clutched tight in his arms, her face smashed against his chest, before she fully realized she was crying.  
  
"I'm sorry," Peter murmured. "You don't have to tell me."  
  
His heart was pounding in her ear as she shook her head. "I didn't go anywhere." Maybe it was her heart. "There wasn't anywhere to go."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
"It's _not_."  
  
He pulled back just enough to take her face in his hands and force her to meet his eyes. "We will make it okay." She swallowed, his hands were warm against her cheeks. "We'll make it okay."  
  
Carol took a deep breath and nodded. Her tears dried up and she straightened her shoulders, transforming before his eyes. "That's my girl." She made a face. "Woman." She laughed quietly.  
  
"I'm my own woman."  
  
"You can't be both?"  
  
She leaned into his chest again. "Maybe."  
  
"You're my sunshine."  
  
"Your only sunshine?"  
  
"No." He shifted until she was facing the horizon but still tucked up against him.  
  
"I didn't miss it." He kissed the top of her head. They watched together as the sun slipped away. She took another deep breath and whispered into the wind. "You're my home."  
  
"I'm glad."


	7. Stay

"Peter?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know that thing you said...?"  
  
He turns to look at her but there's nothing in her expression that tells him what she means. "Uh. No?"  
  
"'You don't ever have to go'."  
  
He frowns slightly. "Huh?"  
  
"That's the thing. You said."  
  
"Oh. Huh?"  
  
Carol sinks back into the couch. "Never mind."  
  
"No!" Peter turns, shaking his head. "No, no, no, Carol. No way."  
  
She looks past him. "No way what?"  
  
"No way 'never mind'. Tell me about the thing."  
  
"The moment's passed."  
  
Peter's mouth drops open. "Has not!" He puts a hand out to turn her face back toward his. "Please?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know...how to say it?"  
  
She chews at her lip. "Yeah."  
  
"Okay." He blows air out his cheek and snaps his fingers at a thought. "I know." He takes both her hands in his. "Carol?"  
  
She rolls her eyes, but takes a breath and answers. "Yes, Peter?"  
  
"You don't ever have to go." Carol's lips turn in seemingly of their own accord and her gaze falters; Peter simply waits until her eyes flicker back to his.  
  
"As long as I remember I've been ... well, you know. I'm tough. What'd you say the other day? Rough tough cocoa puff."

He opens his mouth to protest but she rushes on.

"No, I liked it. It made me sound cute. But not in the bad way. Never mind, that's not the point." She takes a breath. "Lots of people, lots of women, lots of...heroes—"

She says it like maybe it doesn't apply to her. He hates it when she sounds like that.

"—they grow up _tough_. Because they got pushed around or don't fit in or—" She looks away a moment. "Or something bad happened to them. Or to someone they loved." Carol takes another breath and turns back to meet his eyes again. "There's lots of reasons. But it's _something_. Something they feel that makes them toughen up. They don't depend on anybody but themselves. And they _go_ whether they have to or not. Maybe they tell themselves they do have to." She stops and makes a face. "I shouldn't be generalizing. I mean me."  
  
Peter opens his mouth to respond again but Carol shakes her head and rushes on. "It's hard for me to depend on people. But I'm learning."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But that's not even it. See— you're saying— I mean I don't know if you're saying it but I _hear—_ " She stops for another breath. Why is this so hard to explain? "Why is this so hard to explain?"  
  
"It's okay. Just keep going. I'm listening."  
  
"Right! That. Exactly." She grins. A big, goofy grin and her eyes light up. "Lots of people depend on me." She waves her hands around. "People! But not like that. Not like— not like it's not important to anybody except you. That's how you said that. The thing. And about home and Chewie and me." Her grin gets somehow even bigger and she throws her arms around him.  
  
Peter returns her hug with enthusiasm but speaks with some hesitation."I really want to say I understand, Carol. But I'm not sure I really do."  
  
"It's okay." She pulls back. "You believe I want to stay."  
  
"I ... yes." He pulls her close. "Yes. I do."  
  
"That's what I wanted to say."  
  
He kisses the top of her head. "I love you."  
  
"I know. No more talking."


	8. Life or Something Like It

"You didn't have to bring me along, Peter. I know with your schedules it is hard to find any time to go out alone." May nodded toward Carol who walked a few steps ahead of them, looking for an empty bench. "I don't want to get in anyone's way."  
  
Peter shook his head. "Carol wants you here, Aunt May. It was her idea."  
  
Aunt May nodded 'Ah' and smiled at him. "She's a sweet girl." She frowned at Peter's answering guffaw.  
  
"Sorry. I just don't think anyone's said that about Carol before. Ever." May's frown deepened. "I mean, she is! But it's not how she—" He shrugged. "—presents herself." May started to respond but was interrupted by Carol calling - sweetly, May maintained - that she'd found a bench.  
  
"Thank you, dear. I just need a short rest." Carol smiled. "You two go find your..."  
  
"Photo booth," said Peter.  
  
"Yes. I'll be fine here. Take your time."

Carol hesitated but Peter had caught May's look and took Carol's hand to lead her away.  
  
"We're really doing the photo booth?"  
  
"Of course, silly, that's why we're here."  
  
"I thought we were enjoying the spring day and our ability to walk the streets without fear of arrest."  
  
He tugged her hand playfully. " _And_ get you in a photo booth. I have plans."  
  
"Should I be scared?"  
  
He feigned hurt; she rolled her eyes.

"Come on, you."  
  
Carol allowed herself to be dragged over to an unoccupied photo booth that looked like it had been cleaned sometime last century. She made a big show of holding her breath and not touching anything more than she had to, but dropped the act when he closed the curtain with a quick kiss.  
  
"This is dumb, Peter."  
  
"Smile, Caroly!"  
  
Four flashes later she peeked out. "Am I done?"  
  
"I have to see the proofs first." She sighed; he swatted at her. The photo sheet dropped down. "Nope."  
  
"Nope?"  
  
"Nope, not done."  
  
"Why?" She tried to take the photos from him but his spider senses gave him the advantage.  
  
"I said _smile, Caroly_."  
  
"I did smile!"  
  
"Nope." He pushed her gently back behind the curtain. "Take two."  
  
"How many takes are we doing?"  
  
"As many as it takes to capture the real you."  
  
"I don't want to die in a box behind a curtain, Parker."  
  
"Stop talking and smile, Danvers."  
  
Four more flashes, another sheet.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Better. One more."  
  
She pushed open the curtain. "Do I get to see?"  
  
He closed it again. "Not yet."  
  
"Aaaarrrrgggh."  
  
"Action!"  
  
Four flashes, a third sheet.  
  
"Perfect."  
  
" _Now_ do I get to see?" she asked, still behind the curtain.  
  
He pushed it back and held out a hand. "Yes." She took his outstretched hand and he pulled her out of the booth. As they started walking he passed her the picture strip.  
  
"Ugh."  
  
"I like this one best."  
  
"My eyes are closed."  
  
"I like it."  
  
She stopped walking. "I look so ... small."  
  
"You look like you." She made a face. "Hey."  
  
"I don't know. I like that me better."

She pointed up at a billboard. Peter knew what he'd see before he looked — the new _Avengers_ publicity shots had overtaken the city. The powers that be were making every effort to make the country forget everything that had taken place while Osborn was in charge. Spider-Man was a part of it; Carol knew the billboard made him a little queasy. Ms. Marvel was the only woman featured in the shot; Peter knew it both bothered and pleased her.  
  
"I like that one fine." He took the booth pictures back. "But this is the one I get to keep for myself."  
  
She watched him a moment and started walking.  
  
"How come you like that one best? With my eyes closed."  
  
"It's... sweet." She made another face. "Aunt May says you're a sweet girl."  
  
Carol laughed. "I don't think anyone's said that about me before. Ever."  
  
Peter grinned. "That's what I said!"  
  
"Oh."  
  
Peter's grin fell. "Carol..."  
  
"It's okay."  
  
He sighed. "I just said you're sweet. Like three sentences ago."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You are sweet," he tried again.   
  
"Okay."  
  
"And impossible."  
  
She gave him a small sideways smile.  
  
"Let's take her to lunch."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Aunt May. We should have a real lunch. Instead of hot dogs."  
  
Peter looked askance. "But it's Coney Island!"  
  
"Next time." She spun away, walking purposefully toward his aunt. Peter followed slowly; they'd come up with a plan by the time he got there.  
  
"If you insist, dear." May looked over to Peter at his approach. "Did you get your pictures?" He nodded and showed her the strip. May peered a moment and pointed at one. "This one."  
  
"That's my favorite, too."  
  
Carol shook her head in confusion. "My eyes are closed."  
  
"I like it," Peter repeated.  
  
"What were you thinking about?" his aunt asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
May pointed again. "What were you thinking about? In the booth."  
  
Carol frowned slightly. "I don't know. Peter kept talking. I was thinking about... him."  
  
May flashed a wide smile and gave her hand a squeeze. "Let's go to lunch."


	9. Bringing Up Baby

"I want to have a baby."  
  
Peter dropped his toothbrush.  
  
It had been a long day. A long morning worrying about going to the party, a long afternoon worrying about being at the party, a long evening worrying about what was going on at the party— It had been a long day. A long day after what had really been a long year of long days. Not all _bad_ , he thought, glancing over at the woman sitting curled up in the middle of his bed. Their bed. Not at all all bad, but still long. Peter shook his head. Maybe he'd misheard her.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Carol smiled and crawled across the bed to wipe toothpaste-spittle from the side of his mouth. "Not _today_. Five or ten years from today."  
  
"Uh."  
  
A long moment passed. She pulled back and crossed her arms. "That's all you have to say? 'Uh'?"  
  
"Uh." He swallowed at her answering frown. "What am I supposed to say?"  
  
"Something with real words."  
  
"Right." He pushed a hand back through his hair. "Why are you, uh, thinking about this?" He was pretty sure that wasn't the right thing to ask but he was also pretty sure he didn't know what was.  
  
Carol sat back in the middle of the bed; she looked smaller this way, out of uniform and seated casually in their bedroom. "Probably something to do with all the near death experiences of the past week."  
  
Peter frowned. They had near death experiences daily, it was something else. He sat down. "How come you're bringing it up to me? Uh. Now?"  
  
"Cosmo told me to."  
  
"You read Cosmo?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Bobbi does."  
  
"You were talking about babies with Bobbi?" This was sounding more and more like a no-win-scenario.  
  
Carol blew air out over her lips. "Are you my boyfriend?"  
  
"Yes?" Angry eyes flickered his way. "Yes!"  
  
"That's why. We're supposed to talk about these things so we know if we are on the same page about—" She shrugged. " _Someday_."  
  
Peter narrowed his eyes. Something else was going on here. "So... _someday_... you want to have a baby..." She nodded, he swallowed again. "With me?"  
  
Carol's look turned thoughtful. "Well. Tony does have a lot to offer but it'd be bit of a gamble."  
  
Peter had started sputtering at the word 'Tony'. "What."  
  
"Kid's already stuck with me, you know?"  
  
"No, I really do not know."  
  
Carol dropped back onto the pillow with a sigh. "You're right."  
  
"I'm...? What? That doesn't make sense!"  
  
She opened her hands with a shrug. "If I'm looking for the best genes, it's clearly Steve."  
  
Peter simply stared. Another long moment passed.  
  
Carol burst into giggles. Peter's disbelief turned into outrage.  
  
"It's not funny!"  
  
She only giggled more. "It's kinda funny."  
  
"Not to me."  
  
He looked really hurt; Carol stopped laughing. She crept back next to Peter and took his hand.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Peter turned to meet her eyes. "Why did you say all that?"  
  
She took a breath. "When I first said I wanted a baby, how did you feel?"  
  
"I don't know." He didn't want questions, he wanted answers.  
  
"Yes you do. You froze up. How did you feel?"  
  
"I don't know! Scared!"  
  
"Okay. And when I said with Tony, how did you feel?"  
  
Peter glared; he didn't like this game. "Angry," he said through clenched teeth. "Jealous." His lip trembled. "...Stupid."  
  
She cocked her head. "Why stupid?"  
  
"For thinking you meant with me."  
  
"Okay. So now when I say—" She took a breath. "Peter, _someday_ when I'm ready, I want to have a baby. And it's okay for that to scare you because it scares me, too, and it scares me even more to say that I want to have the baby with you because even more crazy than imagining having a baby is imagining having a baby _with_ someone—"  
  
Peter shook his head. "Carol, that doesn't make sense!"  
  
"I wasn't done." Her voice was quiet and had a pleading quality to it; Peter felt badly despite the anger and hurt. He nodded for her to continue. "You're right, it doesn't make sense, but it's how I've always thought about it. Since I was a kid. I guess I just got used to doing everything on my own."  
  
She paused, chewing her lip; a telltale indication of anxiety. If you knew her. Peter put his hand over hers. "But now?"  
  
She met his eyes. "Now I want _someday_ to be with you."  
  
He lifted a hand a brushed a hair out of her eyes. She held her breath.  
  
"Why? You said yourself I'm not the best choice. I'm probably not top twenty. So. Why me?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
She looked so serious. He pulled her closer. "I love you, too, Carol."  
  
She let out her breath and shook; his arms tightened around her. "How do you feel now?"  
  
"Still scared."  
  
"Still angry?"  
  
"A little."  
  
Carol kissed his cheek and said, with contrition, "I'm sorry."  
  
"You're forgiven."  
  
"Oh, yeah?"  
  
"Yea—" She covered his mouth with hers. The conversation wasn't over for Peter. He still didn't know why this had come up or why she was being evasive about it. Though, that may be the wrong word— or rather she might be evading it, whatever it is, herself, too. Plus something she'd said... No, it wasn't over. But they had time.


End file.
